Chapter 18

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In the middle of May, as class Valedictorian, Zarah graduated with two Bachelor of Science degrees: one in Media and Communications and the other in African American History. She had two minors as well, one in business and another in commercial art and graphic design. But it was a whole month after getting her degrees before she was dancing on clouds. Working with Harvey Wilson day in and day out most weeks, she had made great progress in fulfilling her promise to stop judging white people—all but the overt and covert, obviously racist ones—before she even knew them.

Part of her foundation, her core, her being "fully awake" from the slave mindset led her to believe that much of what whites did or allowed to be done to blacks, past and present, was unforgivable. The longer she worked at WPI, the more she asked why the company hired so many whites, if the owner was committed to helping to uplift black people by presenting the unadulterated truth in his publications. Wasn't white supremacy the reason truth about black people had been hidden for centuries?

The second time she posed the question to WPI's top leadership, they told her the main reason WPI hired white employees and white Interns was to introduce them to a world where black people were the center of the universe. The way the white race was in the world outside of WPI. 

She weighed only one-hundred-twenty pounds, but, since the day the publisher and associate publisher sat down with her and explained it, she'd been feeling lighter and was hosting much lighter burdens. In her apartment lying on her bed—on the phone with Marcus, she told him how much she loved working at Wilson Publishing, and how, most days, she felt like she was floating on air. Marcus told her it was a dream for him too, but he wasn't sure print journalism was right for him. "At least you feel like you can choose," Zarah said. "Me? I think ... I was born knowing I'd always work in print media, being a magazine journalist and editor. There's no choice for me. My brain is etched in stone. I'm nuts about magazines. I'm nuts about WPI!"

When she told her friend she hoped Professor Wilson would tell her soon he was hiring her full-time, as an employee, Marcus suggested it might happen after she completed her graduate degrees. Then he surprised her and said he knew about her turning down a "sure thing" job with Thurgood Williams. He said Mr. Williams told him, and he wanted to know why she'd turned down the position. After saying the job just wasn't for her, she opened up and told him it had strings attached, and the strings made her not like or trust married Mr. Williams. "Besides," she said. "You know radio was never my career goal. I wanted to pursue my dream. It might seem stupid for someone as financially challenged as I am to choose an internship over a six-figure salary, but I won't be bought, and I know where my heart is. So far? I have no regrets."

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It was on a Wednesday in late June, after five in the evening, when things changed for Zarah, for good. She was still at work, rushing to meet a deadline, standing up at her desk, typing. She was working to put the final editing touches on a story for TrueSouth when Professor Wilson passed by her office. When he saw her, he stopped walking and backed up.

"Is your chair not comfortable?" he asked.

"What? Oh." It took a minute for her to connect his comment with her standing up while typing.

"Oh no, it is. I just have to get to my job at Val-Mart. I was late yesterday, and I cannot afford to get fired. Standing reminds me I have to go."

That was when she knew, until that day, Harvey Wilson hadn't known she was still working at her job as a cashier at Val-Mart while still working as an intern and going to graduate school full-time at JCU.

"I need you to come see me," he said, frowning, "tomorrow morning, as soon as you get in."

"Sure. I'll do that. First thing." Again, she found herself wondering if she was in trouble. Why did he need to see her? And why was he looking so angry and serious when he asked her to come to see him?

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